THE KAHM SYNDICATE

Waipa Post, Volume 48, Issue 3471, 26 May 1934, Page 9

THE KAHM SYNDICATE

CHAPTER XL Without speaking, Oliver Manx turned to the trap-door in the roof. He had lost again in his battle against the crook organisation that was trying to dominate the Three Districts; and this time he had no hope of retrieving his mistake. The smile on the master gangster’s face showed that every precaution had been taken to prevent either escape or rescu'e. And, to remain a prisoner for any length of time meant death. The secret agent had no illusions that the man was threatening only. The organisation could not permit him to live with the knowledge he had acquired of their powers and objects. Alec Grosse would scheme some way whereby “ Joe Kline ” would die, and in such circumstances that the gang would not be implicated. He had hinted that he was to be a burglar, and shot by some householder in defence of.life and property. At the scuttle on the roof a grinning face showed beckoning to the secret agent. The face disappeared within the trap-door, and without hesitation Oliver Manx turned and started to back down the ladder, into the house. As his head came level with the roof, he looked up. Alec Grosse was watching him intently, a sombre look of malice on his face.

He found the passage below lit by lights from gangsters’ torches. With an almost inaudible sigh the secret agent abandoned a half-formed plan, to slide quickly down the ladder on the man who had preceded him, and escape in the dai’kness. The gangster on the ladder reached the foot and stood aside for Oliver Manx to come to the floor. As he did so the man thrust the muzzle of an automatic into his back, bidding him turn quickly. The secret agent obeyed and. at the prod of the gun, walked a few steps down the passage. There he was commanded to halt. A moment, and Alec Grosse, his full, luddy face flushed with triumph passed him and led to the head of the stairs. A thrust from the gun behind him emphasised the command from the gangster to follow the chief. ' Preceded by a couple of men carrying light torches and illuminating the stair treads, Alec Grosse led the way to the third floor of the building. He turned' into a long passage and paused before the door of a room. Ope of the men opened the door and the gang chief entered, beckoning for Oliver Manx to follow.

The secret agent found himself in a comfortably furnished room, a big desk occupying the centre of the floor. ' Evidently the place was used as an office by the gangster in command of the premises. Grosse went to the chair behind the desk and sat down; the gangsters, crowding the room, thrust Oliver Manx forward until he stood before the desk. For a moment the big gangster looked at his captive keenly. “ Anything to say, Joe? man asked after a long pause. ‘ Oh, you needn’t hurry; the day’s young yet and Joe, the thief, won’t be discovered until the householder gets up—somewhere around nine o’clock. Plenty of time, ff you want to talk. Oliver Manx held silence. He had nothing to say; every thought m his head was centred on escaping from his present predicament. “Nothing to say? ” Grosse jeered. Want a sniff, Joe? ” . ' The secret agent, unconsciously shook his head in negative. . “Not want a sniff?” The big man simulated surprise. “So Joe Kline s reformed —given up the snow. Well, well . .He paused and stared hard at the man standing before him. “ Well, if that’s so, what about Joe Kline passing . . • passing out. Again Oliver Manx refused to anSW6l*. “If he doesn’t ‘sniff’ there amt much use for Joe Kline, is there Grosse continued. ‘ Then ... _ s we’ve got someone unknown to u's m this room, we’ll have to give him a name. Can’t call him: * You there. Wouldn’t be polite. Any suggestions, boys? No, then. . “Pardon me! Am I intruding. A quiet suave voice spoke from the direction of the dooi. Oliver Manx swung round, thoroughly suiprised. A small man stood just within the door—a man he recognised at a glance. He was Maurice Archibald, the manager of the Kahm y dicate. He would have recognised those hard, steely, green-blue eyes anywhere; the full, over-red lips;; the dome-like bald head. Almost a fee ing of triumph swept over him. part he had succeeded. He had uncovered the connection between the Kahm Syndicate, of Pitt Street Sydney, and the Grosse gang of crooks, of Darlinghurst. He turned to face the desk again, to find Alec Grosse on his feet; a cmile of welcome on his lips; someth ng Hke fear in his small eyes. Maurice Archibald came slowly mto the room, the gamgstere fall™ aside, fearfully yielding him a path.

SERIAL STORY (In 15 Instalments.)

By AIDAN DE BRUNE.

(Copyright.—All Rights Reserved.)

Without acknowledgement to any man, with only a quick searching glance at Oliver Manx, the man went round the desk. As he came to the chair before which Alec Grosse stood, the gangster stepped away. Without acknowledgment, or even recognition, the Kahm Syndicate manager seated himself. Eor a moment he waited, staring down at the virgin-white blot-ting-pad before him, then glanced up, first at Grosse then at the prisoner. “ You were talking to Joe Kline, Mr Grosse,” he said in his distinctively quiet and expressionless voice. “ Poor Joe! So he’s departed to—er —some place where there is little hope of obtaining the—the very necessary drug. Poor fellow! But we’ll have to resurrect him again, I fear, ulnless . . . yes, unless you, Mr Grosse ... Yes, yes! There is that to consider. If Joe turns burglar and . . . dies ... He must naturally fall into the hands of the police. They will, with their well known curiosity, investigate. . . They will, with their well-know thoroughness horrid thought—use sponge and water on him. Poor Joe! Water and sponge will* —er —obliterate Joe Kline and . . . and... Who will they find ? I wonder? ”

A little snigger ran round the group of gangsters looking on at the tragedy, as the little man paused.

“Who will the police find? ” continued Archibald, in his quiet, precise voice. “ They will use sponge and water —and possibly find that Joe Kline is ... How shall I put it—is not Joe Kline; for Joe Kline is still in Goulbulrn gaol. Then, who will they find behind the mask of Joe Kline? Shall I suggest . . . Thaddeus Keene, of Melbourne well-known retired business man, and traveller. Er—may I ask, of what line of business ? The snigger superimposed upon the air of the room developed into a small laughter; a laugh of hard indifference, of callous enjoyment of the baiting of a human captive; a laughter that was laced with the anticipation of the blood-scent coming on the air.

“ Cut the cackle! ” Alec Grosse spoke rather sharply. “We all know about Thaddeus Keene — As much as we know about Joe Kline. Give him a name and end the matter. What about calling him . . . Oliver Manx, the shadow man of the Crown Law Office? ”

A little gasp came from the men j clustered in the room. Without turning, Oliver Manx could visualise the astonishment gathered on the watchers’ faces. The gasp developed into a faint chuckle, a gloating whisper that rose asid swelled into a volume of sound —until the little man at the desk held up his hand; then there was a dealthly silence. “ So! That astonishes you, my good friends! But, why? We knew, long ago, that Oliver Manx was getting cuTious. Fortunately, I recognised him when he came, as Thaddeus Keene, to investigate me. Almost he escaped me then. . . A clever trick, Mr M&nx ... I congratulate you but not so clever as to assume the name and identity of a gentleman who is enjoying the hospitality of this State at one of its—er —guest-houses. Did you think so meanly of my er intelligence service, Mr Manx, to suppose you could put that over? He paused. “ You have nothing to answer?!” Still Oliver Manx held silence. Maurice Archibald waited some seconds, then shook his head gravely. “1 am afraid Mr Manx does not approve of me. lam sorry,” he stated quietly. “ That, for me, is a misfortune. Ido my best—and Ido not receive appreciation. . .” He looked up at the big gangster standing by his side. “By the bye, Mr.Grosse, have you shown Mr Manx his place of—er —final disposal? ” Alec Grosse did not immediately reply. He glanced down at the little man in the chair, questioningly. Archibald nodded, blandly. “ Why hesitate, my dear friend. I can assure you of Mr Manx’s —er —ultimate discretion. As you well know—the dead do not gossip.” Without replying, Alec Grosse turned from the desk and went to the wide fireplace. He touched some portion of the overmantel and pulled strongly. The fireplace came forward, working on well-oiled hinges, revealing a dai’k hole in the wall. “If you will be so good. . Maurice Archibald rose to bis feet, thrustthe chair aside. “We cannot expert our guest to know all out secrets. To venture into that dark aperture might . . . might be to risk bis life. A mis-step, a stumble, and I shudder to think of the consequences.” Alec Grosse grinned widely as be glanced from the little man to the prisoner. He strode into the darkness behind the fireplace and for the moment was lost to sight. Suddenly light came in the darkness, silhouetting the piaster-gangster’s form. Lights sprang to life in some room beyond. Now Oliver Manx saw that the ap-

erture led into another room. At a motion from Archibald he went round the desk and through the aperture. He had to stoop slightly as h e passed into the room beyond, for the space was low. As he came to the point between the two fireplaces he glanced up. Above him was the dividing wall of the two houses, cut away to permit the passag'e; and on either side of the wall were chimneys. In the further room the fireplace stood out, held by concealed hinges.

“ A neat arrangement,” commented Archibald, who had closely followed the secret agent. We are now in another building—a building let out in the most respectable flats, to most respectable people. Not one of the persons living in this house has ever come under suspicion of the police. I can give you my personal assurance on that. For instance, the gentleman and his wife who lease this apartment from the owners of the house, are of irreproachable chai’acter. The gentleman is an accountant in the city, owning his own business. If you must know, he has an office in Alford Hou'se, on the floor above the Kahm Syndicate. No. . . There is no possible chance of him being connected with the Syndicate in the police, or public, minds. Not that that would matter, for the Syndicate bears a most irreproachable character. Mr Lyne—l trust you will remember the name for the short; time remaining to you—is a fine shot with the revolver he has owned for some time. I assure you, Mr Manx, the revolver is fully licensed and registered. You know I would not have you—er —terminated —with an unlicensed gun. That is not my way. . .”

“ Perhaps things are not your way at all, Mr Archibald.” Oliver Manx broke his long silence. “ There may be others who will have more to say in the matter than you.” The little man did not reply for a moment. He stared round the handsomely futnished room in which he, Alec Grosse and Oliver Manx stood, with some satisfaction. Suddenly he turned to the secret agent:— “ You know that? ” “ I have guessed something.” “Then—you are, only guessing? ” “With some little knowledge ir. support.” “ And—your knowledge ? ”

“ I have no evidence —yet.”

“ You are very cautions, Mr Manx. Is that wise, in the circumstances'? But. ..” He went further into the room, beckoning Oliver Manx to follow him. “ Will you not sit down, Mr Manx. As I informed you in the other house, we have some time to wait before the last—er —act of er—our drama, is played. Mr Grosse, may I trouble you to close the doors ? ”

Alec Grosse hesitated a moment. “ Better have a guard in,” he suggested. “Nonsense, my dear fellow! ” The little man grinned, seating himself in a comfortable chair. “ Our friend, Mr Oliver Manx is not a fool. He recognises the inevitable. He is going to tell us all he knows. Confession before death, you understand. We—you and I—will give him absolution—if he tells the truth—before we arouse Mr and Mrs Lyne.” Alec Grosse nodded briefly. He went to the fireplace aperture and passed through; returned in a few seconds and closed the fireplace back in its place.

“ Now, Mr Manx, we are waiting for you. But, pardon me! I can assure you 1 that chair is most comfortable. Please sit down. The time is a quarter to seven. A little over an hour before we stage our dramatic act. Mr and Mrs Lyne are late risers. We do not want ..”

A shrill-toned telephone bell rang, muffled, through the room. Archibald frowned, then rose and went to a small table in one of the corners. He lifted the lid of an ornate rosewood box and lifted out an American telephone. He spoke: “Well? Mr A. Lyne here! ”

A look of astonishment came on the Kahm Syndicate manager’s face as he listened to speech that crackled faintly on the air of the room. “Yes, he’s here! Would you like to speak to him? Of course; anything you say. Hold the line a minute.”

Archibald placed the instrument on the table and turned to face Oliver Manx. The expression of astonishment had faded from his face, leaving only lines of humour lurking about the corners of his mouth. “ Mr Manx, a gentleman wishes to speak to you on the telephone.”

“To me? ” For the first time since he had entered that room —the room that was to be the scene of his death the secret agent smiled.

“ A gentleman wants to speak to me ? ” Oliver Manx paused. “Do I want to speak to him ? “ That is for you to decide.” The little man spoke suavely. “ I should advise you to comply with his wishes. “Then, he is. . .”

“Heis • • .yes.” Archibald mimicked the tones on which the secret agent spoke.

“Very well.” Oliver Manx went to the table. He lifted the instrument and spoke bis name. “ Oliver Manx here.”

“ And—Thaddeus Keene ? ” A rather oily voice replied; a voice that the secret agent seemed to remember hearing before. It continued: “ And Joe Kline l ” “ We are all together,” Oliver Manx

stated gravely. “ Who are you ? ” “Is my name necessary?” The oily voice was charged with laughter. “ You heard Archibald speak to me. If you want additional proof, then send Alec Grosse to the instrument. But . . . that would be foolish. You want no proof that I speak with authority.” “ I will take the authority on trust.” Oliver Manx smiled secretly. “ How am I to take the words you speak? ” “On trust, also.” The voice at the other end of the line spoke quickly. “ Some little while ago Alec Grosse made you an offer—when you were Joe Kline. I repeat that offer—not to Joe Kline or Thaddeus Keene—but to Oliver Manx, secret agent of the Crown Law office. He will be very useful to u's.” “ I don’t doubt that.” The secret agent spoke drily.

“ You fully realise your presgnt position? ” “ Entirely! lamto be shot at dawn! ” “ You are jesting.”

“Why not? You are offering me what I cannot accept. Then'—why not a jest—in place of a sob ? ” “You do not recognise the inevitable? ”

“ I believe Ido . . . But you must excuse me. My time is short.” “ Time will stand still—if I bid it.”

Without answering, Oliver Manx replaced the receiver on the instrument and closed the lid of the cabinet. ’Turning from the table, he found the two regarding him curiously. He walked slowly to the chair he had formerly occupied, and sat down. “ Satisfied, Mr Archibald ? ” he he asked. “ You know who spoke to you on the telephone? ” asked the little man. “ I believe I can guess.” “You did not recognise the voice? But that does not matter! ”

“ I did not recognise the voice . . . entirely; yet I have suspicions . . . suspicions you are confirming.” Alec Grosse spoke suddenly: “ Don’t be a fool man! You’ve had a good offer, why don’t you take it? You’re at the end of things. Take what’s offered you—and your measly salary from the Crown Law Office will look chicken feed to what you’ll make.”

“ Now—do you know—” Oliver Manx drawled, staring steadily at the

big gangster. “ .. .1 have an absolute passion for chicken feed! ” “ You’re mad! ” was the only reply the big gangster vouchafed to make. “ I am afraid he is.” Archibald spoke quietly. “ Manx would have been an asset to us, but. . . Well, well! Get busy, Alec. You know what to do.”

The big gangster took a pair of thin rubber gloves from his pocket and donned them, then rose from his chair. At the bureau, facing the fire-place, he forced the lock and scattered the papers it contained over the floor. He went to a wall safe and, with a few turns of his wrist, unlocked it, taking out a packet of notes and placing them in his pocket. He then went around the room, apparently looting every receptacle that could have held valuables. Finally, he lifted a large suit case from the corner and placed this open on the floor; then loaded into it most of the valuable stuff in the room. When he had finished the place looked as if it had been gone over by a practised burglar in a hurry. “ Good enough ? ” Alec Grosse turned to the little man.

“The setting’ is remarkably effective,” replied Archibald. “We still have time to spare. May I suggest our friend entertains u's with an account of his activities regarding the Kahm Syndicate, and the conclusions he had drawn tjierefrom? ” He paused a moment, then continued:

“I regret to mention the subject again, but I have remembered certain important engagements I have for this morning. I fear I shall have to depart—on a different road to that to be taken -by Mr Manx, at eight o’clock.” He paused dramatically. “At eight o’clock .. . and don’t forget Alec, that Mr Manx must don those rubber gloves before — eight o’clock! ”

(To be Continued.)